Brothers Through Time
by giacinta
Summary: Sam and Dean, but not quite those that we have been used to. It's a bit unusual but I hope you still enjoy. Completely AU. Chapter Seven. Time period. England 1213.
1. Chapter 1

I know that this is really a weird one, but when something comes into my head I have to go with it.

I understand if it doesn't appeal to everyone but I hope you like it just the same. :)

Sorry if any stupid mistakes have slipped through. Sometimes bits of words get cut off for no apparent reason. :(

As the urge comes to me I'll update with various time stamps through history of our favourite brothers.

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Brothers Through Time.

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The hunter stood tall on the edge of the ridge overlooking the small-watering-hole.

He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the bright yellow, but cold, light of the midday sun.

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They had been trailing the little family of deer for the past three days, before they had finally caught up with them.

The thirsty animals had relentlessly roamed the cold country-side in search of water to slake their thirst.

There were five animals there for the taking, a full grown male and his entourage; and what a boon it would be to them if they managed to kill them all.

He and his fellow hunters needed some luck.

The food was at an all time low and the skins would make much-needed clothing for his people.

He was the leader of the tribe and it pained him to see the women and children suffer from hunger and cold

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The Shaman of the tribe, his brother Saam, had experienced a vision of the small herd of deer and had indicated the direction to him.

His brother's visions were never wrong; although it upset Deen to witness that each one left him with terrible head pains.

However thanks to him and his fore-telling, their people were relatively prosperous and hadn't yet died from cold or starvation,

as the availability of food got scarcer and the temperature of the plains diminished continuously.

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The rest of the tribe led by Saam were on the move, following behind his advance hunting party,

but with the elderly, children and the women, the travelling was much slower and the human caravan would be about a day behind.

Better that way, as there would be fewer odours for the deer to scent.

When they arrived however, he wanted his people's spirits to be uplifted by the abundance of fresh deer meat.

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He cleared his mind of all thoughts other than those of how best to go about killing his prey.

He drew back to consult with his men, all expert hunters with the lance.

Deen had trained them incessantly until their aim was true, and they could hit a moving animal in the head or the heart, their weakest spots,

halting them in mid-flight.

He himself was an expert hunter, and he could count on a few fingers the number of times a prey had escaped death by his hand.

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Saam had come up with a way of honing their flint heads until they were razor sharp without breaking them,

and they were much more efficient than those of the other sparse tribes that they encountered on their wanderings.

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He smiled as he thought of his brother.

They had lost their mother soon after she gave birth to Saam who had then been nursed along with another woman of the tribe,

alternating him with her own new-born son.

Then their father Jonn, who had been the former leader of the small group, had been killed in a hunting accident trying to save one of his men

from an enraged buffalo.

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They had been both young when it had happened but Deen and Saam had grown strong, intelligent and cunning; always together,

the elder talking care of the younger, united in a bond of brotherhood that amazed the other members of the tribe,

but that very bond and the need for each brother to look out for the other, coupled with their continual overcoming of anything that nature threw at them,

had benefitted everyone.

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Deen had grown to be a great hunter and Saam the powerful Shaman and Medicine-Man of the tribe, his accurate predictions keeping them in food

and free from surprise attacks from animals or hostile tribes.

What was more, he was always searching for better and more inventive ways of improving the methods used in their daily lives,

and often came up with little details to better their harsh existence.

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Deen issued whispered orders for the less experienced half the hunters to spread out behind the watering hole in a semi-circle

and frighten the animals into coming towards him and his expert handful of lance-throwers.

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When the rest of the group arrived the next day, there was great joy in seeing the hunters at work on the carcasses of the five deer,

and everyone set feverishly to preserve what they could for the days to come, and to cure the leather for clothing.

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Saam sought out his elder brother who had gone on ahead to explore the surrounding country-side.

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"I see that none of the prey escaped you, brother," the younger smiled as he found him not too far ahead; relieved and happy to see that

his impulsive, risk-taking brother was unharmed.

"There would have been nothing to capture if your unparalleled visions had not told us where to start looking," Deen acknowledged, as he grinned back

at his towering little brother.

Sam was the tallest man in the group, and as yet they had not come across anyone else bigger, not even amongst the other tribes

that wandered the plains.

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Sam went to stand at the side of his beloved brother, brother who had raised and protected him after the death of their father

and he bumped his own shoulder against his sibling's.

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"Come," Saam said, "the women are cooking some of the meat. We will all eat our fill tonight thanks to you."

Deen locked eyes with him. "We are a team, brother. Together we will lead our people to a new land where the prey is bountiful and the days warmer."

Saam nodded as they held each other's gaze; then turned as one to join their companions in their celebrations for the kill.

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XXXX The enD XXXX


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. :)

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Chapter Two

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Sam pursed his lips as he observed his brother inch his body ever closer to his latest lover; for although the morals of the town were anything but strict,

and the brothels abounded, it irked him that Denius didn't have a minimum of self-restraint, at least while they were working.

The taverna was full of clients demanding food before retuning to their work in the cooler afternoon of the scorching August day.

The stone counter-top was surrounded by hungry, impatient and overheated customers, all jostling to be served first.

Sam's face curled into what Den had likened to a bitch in pain.

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He shouted over once again to his brother, who whether on purpose, or because he was totally caught up in the ample charms of Lissa,

continued to studiously ignore him. He would have to resort to other methods.

He held up his hands to calm the impatience of the clients and sent the young boy who worked for them to get his Den's attention.

The youth pulled on Denius' tunic and pointed towards the swarm of people around the serving counter. Samelius saw his brother exchange

one last caress with Lissa and make his way over.

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"Sam, you just can't live without me at your side," he joked. "I was in the middle of a very important discussion with Lissa;

you know how the political problems of our city are so important to her." Denius smirked innocently.

"Yes, I noticed; " Sam answered sarcastically, rolling his eyes at his brother, as he deftly dealt out portions of cooked food and mulled wine over the counter.

"You," he reminded his brother pointedly, "assured our parents that you would give me a hand with the serving while they went on a visit to their relatives.

That's the only reason Father was persuaded to leave."

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"Okay, Sam, I get it. The quicker we get rid of this lot, the less you'll lecture me and the quicker Lissa and I can get back to talking politics."

True to his word, Denius put his mind to the job, and between them both satisfied the crowd of noisy clients in record time.

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Theirs was a family business.

Their parents Gionius and Maria had inherited the small establishment from her own parents and when the two brothers were born,

they too became part of it.

Sam enjoyed cooking and serving in the small family-run taverna but Denius had hated it.

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He much preferred his daily chore of keeping the kitchen supplied with fresh boar and rabbit meat, which he hunted with unerring accuracy.

However his easy charm and engaging smile brought in plenty of customers and he wasn't averse to a brawl when some overdid their drinking;

but whenever necessary he helped out over the counter too; he just liked to bitch about it!

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When the last of the midday customers had taken his butt out through the doorway, the brothers leaned back in exhaustion.

Even inside the shadowy shelter of the stone walls, the heat was oppressive and the fires under the bulky cooking pots only upped the temperature

to impossible levels.

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"Sam," Denius said as he bumped shoulders with his brother, "Why don't we take a break for an hour or two?

We won't get many more people in until tonight anyway and Claudius can handle the odd client." He nodded towards their young helper.

"If you lose any more sweat, you'll become a wizened prune and Gessica will ditch you for me," he teased, knowing how his younger brother mooned over

his yellow-haired girl-friend.

Sam didn't need to be told twice.

He sweated heavily enough normally, but now he could have filled ten amphorae with the amount of water he had produced during the last couple of hours.

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"You know Den, that's the best idea you've had all week," his brother bumped back. "I think a visit to the Baths might just be what we need."

"Great minds think alike Sam." Den smiled affectionately at his little brother. "Let's go!"

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The deserted streets were blisteringly hot as the boys made their way to the bath-house,

never more comfortable than when in the familiar company of each other.

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Denius was lazily anticipating his evening meeting with the black-haired Lissa when his brother unexpectedly fell to his knees, head between his hands,

a low moan escaping from between his lips.

Panicking at the sight; Den threw himself down beside his sibling, his strong hands clasping his shoulders, while worriedly calling his name.

"Sam, Sami, what's wrong?"

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One of Sam's hands reached out and grasped the home-spun cloth of Den's tunic, the other covering his eyes.

He held on tight, grateful for the supporting presence of his elder brother.

"Den, "his brother whispered painfully." the city will be destroyed; everyone must leave or they will all be killed."

"What in the name of the gods are you saying?" Denius murmured in the same whispered tones, although there was no-one in the empty street

to hear his words.

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"The mountain will erupt; flames and red-hot rivers of molten rock and ash will cover the city, and it will disappear from the face of the earth

as if it had never existed. We must all leave Deni," Sam's voice rose in pitch, as his hold on his brother's tunic became more forceful.

"We have to warn everyone to flee the city!"

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Denius pulled his oversized little brother up and soothed him as he always did when Sam had one of his nightmares.

"It's only a dream, brother," he consoled his shocked sibling. "Look, the mountain is a quiet as a sleeping dog," but as his eyes turned towards the

flat-topped peak, he saw a thin wisp of smoke rise into the still air, and a thread of doubt began to infiltrate his mind.

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Needless to say, true to the old Latin proverb, "Nemo propheta in patria," not a soul would believe Sam's warnings and Denius had to eventually tell him

to keep quiet or people would begin deserting the taverna, bored with Sam's continual advice to abandon the city.

Den had already got into fights defending his brother from those who had accused him of trying to bring misfortune down on them all.

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He watched helplessly as Sam got more and more upset because no-one would believe him; no-one but his brother, for Denius now did,

as he was all too well aware of the increasing activity on the mountain-top.

Sam had warned him that in two weeks' time, what he had seen would come to pass, and Denius feared that his brother's vision was indeed prophetic.

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He had tried personally to convince Lissa to leave the city, but she just brushed aside his warnings.

"Nothing is going to happen to the city, Deni" she would laugh as she pressed her eager mouth to his, wondering why his reaction was less than flattering.

"Sam's right, " he insisted as he held her at arm's length, hoping to convince her with his wide-eyed gaze "Please leave, Lissa and take your family

with you."

"You're joking! The political elections are coming up soon. How would it seem if my father left the city now?" she answered, annoyed at his insistence.

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Sam had received the same reaction from Gessica and from the town elders; no-one contemplated leaving.

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As the days passed, and the mountain became more threatening, Sam begged his brother to do something, anything to avert what both brothers were now

sure would be an immense disaster.

"Sam, what do you want me to do? I am only one man." he turned angrily on him.

"We have warned everyone and still they'll do nothing, not even now that the sky is turning red with the reflection of the mountain's fire.

We must save ourselves, Sam. We have to join our parents."

"But Deni," his emotional little brother replied, "how can we leave everyone to their fate?"

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Den shook him roughly. "We've warned everyone hundreds of times. Let us at least save ourselves."

"But what of Gessica and Lissa?"

"We can't kidnap them brother. If they do not want to leave, we cannot force them," he finished sadly.

"Come we must make haste to leave, or it will be too late for us too. You are sure that tomorrow will be the day?" Sam nodded sadly as they gathered

the few possessions they could carry, plus any coins they had earned in the last weeks, and left the doomed city.

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They had abandoned her just in time, as the heat and blast from the terrible eruption was felt by them too, even although they had jouneyed nonstop.

The terrible tragedy played out before their shocked eyes, the view from the hill-top all too clear.

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Denius clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder, "You saved us both Sam. I don't pretend to understand why destiny has chosen for us to live

while hundreds have died today, but know this brother," he said as he turned his sibling towards him," if you had refused to leave

then I would have stayed and died beside you."

Their eyes met in understanding; their love and bond of brotherhood firm and strong.

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Pompeii.

August 79 A.D.

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XXXX The enD XXXX


	3. Chapter 3

A tag to Pompeii chapter two.

Castiel's Thoughts.

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Castiel had never been to Hell, but if he were to picture the infernal realm, it would be similar to what he saw below him.

He looked down on the smoking volcano, the thick wall of ashes rising into the air, forcing the sky to take on the hue of a cadaver;

a grey nebulous mass curving its tentacles around the city and choking the helpless men, women and children who inhabited it;

the hellish red lava instantly vaporising any one who tried to escape.

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The angel who had set all this in motion stood at his shoulders, Uriel, the smiter, appointed to be his mentor;

to acquaint him with these creatures created by His Father, the humans who inhabited this ball of water and rock denominated Earth.

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He wondered what they had done to deserve such a horrible death but Uriel had explained to his young apprentice

that the "mud-monkeys" as he called them, had to be disciplined now and then, when their decadence became inglorious in the eyes of Heaven.

Castiel didn't dwell on it too much, it never crossed his mind to question; if Uriel had ordered it then it must be just.

His place was only to obey.

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All around the city like a gathering of vultures were the reapers, stoically waiting for the death of their assigned souls in order to accompany them

on their journey into the after-life.

Uriel explained that the only presented themselves in such numbers in times of great catastrophe.

They watched until the last reaper collected his charge, and the two angels made ready to leave,

when Castiel noticed two human figures watching from a far hill-top, much as he and Uriel had been doing.

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"Two have escaped the inferno," Castiel observed nodding towards them.

Uriel cast his eyes over the two humans that Castiel had indicated.

He grimaced, his face expressing his disgust.

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"They are not to be harmed," Uriel answered disparagingly.

"They will be re-born many times until their moment arrives. One is blessed but the other is an abomination.

Through them this world of ungrateful and unmeritorious monkeys will be purged and arise like a phoenix from its ashes.

That is all you need to know for the moment Castiel, but you will see them again, as you have been chosen to help bring Heaven's plan to its conclusion.

After your training you will be assigned to them and you will do all you can to make what has been written come to pass.

They are only miserable humans and will never be able to stand against the might of Heaven."

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Castiel nodded his obedience as he always did.

He never thought to doubt that two weak humans could contrast the will of Heaven.

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It was a mistake that he and others more expert than him would make, for such emotionless beings such as angels could never understand the love,

tenacity and sheer stubbornness that the two brothers standing on that far hill would exhibit; never giving up not even when faced

with one going to Hell for the other.

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Castiel was not blessed with fore-sight, so he had no idea that first he would befriend, and then betray those same young men

and that he would be the cause of the civil war in Heaven and the near destruction of the Heavenly Hosts.

The only One who knew all this was absent from Heaven and had been for a long time now.

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Castiel prayed that when the moment came to do his duty, God would have returned to impart guidance to His heavenly plan.

He gave one backward glance at the two brothers standing tall and proud, shoulder to shoulder, appalled by what they had just witnessed, and wondered….

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XXXX The enD XXXX


	4. Chapter 4

Brothers Through Time

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I've tried to eliminate any mistakes, but some may have slipped through. Sorry.

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Chapter Four.

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The choppy seas of the north held no obstacles for the Long-Ships as they kept their prows pointed towards the still distant

shore. They had been at sea for days but now their journey was almost over and then there would be bounty and honour for all;

many tales would be told around the blazing camp-fires during the long cold winter nights.

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The inhabitants of the green isle went about their daily chores oblivious to the impending catastrophe about to befall them.

News had spread of Viking attacks to the North but none of these invaders had ever ventured as far south as this, and so when

the first ships appeared like tiny black dots on the far horizon, no-one noticed anything until it was too late to organise

adequate defences of any kind.

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To the front of the humble cottage two beautiful, healthy children played unconcernedly together, the elder allowing the younger

to straddle him as he pretended to let him win the friendly tussle that they had been engaged in.

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"You win Sammy," the eight-year old announced with the most serious of voices. "You're just too strong for me. I surrender."

"See, I told you I could beat you," the younger squealed in his childishy high voice, as he grinned down at his brother, delighting in

his victory; a victory that was short-lived as Dean flipped him over and warned.

"Careful, Sammy, don't get too carried away when you win, for it doesn't take much for the winner

to find himself the loser again," he chided.

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Another child would probably have cried in frustration at having the tables turned on him so easily, but Sammy just looked up

and absorbed what his brother had said as if it was gospel.

He nodded his head as Dean pulled him up, his curly brown hair bobbing with the motion.

"When you win, you've got to make sure that the loser has really lost," he said in that adult way he had sometimes had.

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Dean smiled.

His Sammy was intelligent, not like the other four year olds in the village.

Sometimes it seemed that the age difference between them didn't exist.

Dean adored his little brother and he knew that there was nothing that he wouldn't do to keep him safe.

He was well aware that Sammy loved him back, always trailing behind him like the tail on a dog and never letting him out of his

sight; on the rare occasion that it happened, the smile on his brother's face when he saw him, filled his heart with joy.

He never thought to question why he preferred spending his time with Sam instead of with children of his own age;

he was at his happiest alongside his brother; it just felt so right.

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At first Dean paid no heed to the shouting he heard in the distance, but when the first spirals of black smoke began to elevate

themselves into the powder-blue sky, he began to feel uneasy. His parents were due back soon; the height of the sun

indicated that it was around midday.

His unease became stronger as he began to catch the sound of screams threaded among the shouting.

He scooped up Sammy, all his big brother instincts yelling at him to take him to safety.

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"Come on Sammy We're going to play hide and seek."

"But Dean, I'm hungry, it's nearly time to eat" Sam protested.

Dean tried to keep his voice calm. "We can still have one more game. It'll pass the time more quickly until mother and father

get home."

He smiled, trying not to transmit his fear to Sammy.

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He took him piggy-back on his shoulders, hoping to keep him from feeling that anything was wrong, and he headed towards

a little cave-like indenture in the hill-side, where they went often to play.

He deposited his brother inside.

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"Listen Sammy, we're going to play a new version. You're going to hide in here and then guess which of us is going to come for

you; Mother, Father or me; and if you guess correctly you'll get three extra pieces of apple pie; but don't come out for anyone else,

whatever you may hear. Okay?"

Sam nodded.

He loved his mother's apple pie but as Dean loved it even more, there was always a fight over the last slice.

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Dean turned to go when he felt a small grubby hand gripping his arm. Sam looked up into his big brother's eyes and whispered in

a small voice. "Promise you'll come back for me, Deannie."

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Dean pushed down the emotion that was welling up inside him.

"I promise, Sammy. I'd come to the ends of the Earth and beyond to get you. You're never going to get rid of me little brother. "

They broke eye contact. The four year old and the eight year old had forged their bond ever stronger.

Promises are made to be broken, but Winchester promises live on through time and space.

Sammy settled down behind the rocks, secure in his brother's promise.

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Having ensured Sammy's safety, Dean made his way back to the cottage; he could have stayed hidden with Sam, but he wanted

to know exactly what was going on.

If there was some kind of danger he would go back for his baby brother and take him into the forest.

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He had barely set out past his home towards the town, when he found himself grabbed by a muscular arm and he looked up into

the face of tall bearded stranger.

He tried to pull away, kicking and writhing like a wild cat to free himself from the iron hold.

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"Well, well, well, Look what we have here a real little wolf."

Dean's eyes looked up at him full of hatred.

"Let me go," he yelled as he struggled ineffectually against the superior strength of the Norseman.

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"You show great courage for a little whippet such as you are. It is a pity that you were not born of us, but that can be

remedied." he affirmed, as he hoisted the terrified boy over his shoulder like a side of bacon, and carried him back to his ship.

The pillaging went on all day and it was night-fall when the Vikings took to their ships again, leaving a smouldering village and the

few surviving townsfolk to lick their wounds.

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No one paid any attention to the sobbing of the frightened little boy, as he sat curled into the corner of one of the boats.

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Sam wiped the sweat from his brow as he cut the last of the corn and bundled it into a sheaf.

The sun was at its lowest, ready to set for the night, and there was nothing more he could do that day.

The eighteen year old picked up his scythe and the cloth that had been used to wrap his midday meal,

and he made his way home.

His father would be waiting for him.

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John had been injured all those years ago when the last Viking invasion had taken place and he had been reduced to doing light

chores around the house. Sam's mother had been raped and left for dead, and although she had recovered, the loss of her

first-born had preyed on her, taking away her will to live and she had just wasted away, leaving the twelve year old Sammy alone

with his crippled father.

In these past years nothing had been easy but they had managed to survive by pooling their forces with the few other villagers

left alive.

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No-one ever had ever known what had become of Dean, but Sam thought about him every day and prayed for his safety.

He didn't ever want to forget his brother's face and when he was alone he brought up the image in his mind, keeping it fresh and

actual.

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As he walked he saw a figure on the road making its way towards him. Usually he never met anyone at this hour going back home

He watched curiously as it got nearer.

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It was a man, tall and dark-haired, his muscles those of a trained soldier.

His hair looked strange, all uneven as if he had just cut it carelessly with a knife He was dressed in a simple tunic,

although he had a short broad-sword at his waist.

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He stopped in front of Sam, coming up right into his personal space, surprising him and causing him to take a step back.

The man had a smirk on his face. "Hello, Sammy," he said.

"Do I know you?" Sam asked, wondering how this stranger could possible know his name.

"You've grown real tall, taller than me even."

He just stood there immobile, waiting; looking at Sam as if he was something important, sacred even.

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Sam studied the man before him and he finally looked into his eyes, really looked.

He remembered those eyes. He remembered the last time he had seen them.

He superimposed the image he always carried in his mind. The eyes were the same.

No, it couldn't be!

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He swallowed nervously before he tentatively uttered the one word that he had never again spoken since that terrible day.

It felt rusty on his lips; rusty with disuse.

"Dean?" he whispered, wanting to believe but afraid to.

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He didn't have to wait for an answer, his heart had already told him what he needed to know.

He wanted to throw his arms around his long-lost brother, but he felt shy and awkward.

He didn't have to worry, for Dean enfolded him in a back- breaking hug, as he whispered in his ear. "I promised that I would come

back for you Sammy and I always keep my promises."

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Dean felt the shoulder of his tunic becoming damp as his little brother's tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Dean, is it really you? I never thought I'd see you again" he cried brokenly.

"You should have believed me when I told you that you were never going to get rid of me baby brother," Dean said,

as he held on tight to the other half of his soul.

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XXXX TBC XXXX


	5. Chapter 5

From Rags To Riches.

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Chapter Five.

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The raggedly clothed child waited patiently in the gloom of his hiding place, the sickly stench of rotting food more familiar to him than any sweet perfume.

This was where he had grown up, among the poorest of the poor.

He had never known the gentle caress of his mother, driven to her death by the hardships she had suffered in bringing her babies into the world; her last words to her distraught husband John had been to make him promise to care for her young children above all else.

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The child had not been witness to that moment as he had been but a baby at the time, but his older brother had watched and silently listened to the

last poignant words of his dying mother, and that five-year old had vowed to keep his baby brother safe, and defend him from the violent and uncaring

world in which they lived.

Sometimes when Dean was in the mood, he would tell him how beautiful their mother had been, as beautiful as an angel with her long blond tresses and how she would cradle baby Sammy in her arms and sing sweet lullabies to make him sleep.

Sam would fall asleep with this image in his mind, curled up in the safe, warm arms of his older brother.

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When John had died prematurely, destroyed by alcohol and remorse for the loss of his wife, the poor but relatively safe life the two brothers had

enjoyed until then had disappeared with him, and they had found themselves alone; two defenceless children alone in a city of monsters and danger

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Dean had been ten and little Sammy only six but Dean had risen to the occasion, his protective instincts and love for his little brother giving him the

strength to carry on, finding food and shelter where they could, stealing and begging to keep his baby brother and himself from starving.

As the months passed, Dean came to realise that he had a gift for this nomadic life on the streets and it was a rare day indeed that he didn't find food to bring back to his brother.

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It wasn't the first time that Sam remained in waiting here.

Dean preferred going alone to find food, for more than once his worldly-wise older sibling had noticed the lecherous eyes staring greedily at his

angel-faced blond-haired little brother, and Dean knew that he hadn't a chance of defending Sammy by himself, against the rabble that walked the

streets, stalking little children to sell on to those who dealt in the buying and selling of human flesh.

Dean often thought how much safer Sam would have been if he had warts on his nose or a face that wasn't quite so cute.

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He was on his way back to Sammy; the sum total of his food raid had been two apples, a hunk of cheese and a couple of pieces of bread that he had managed to steal from the stalls at the market.

He had also been lucky enough to find a drunken old Gent who had thrown him some pennies as he had held out his hand in the manner of the other thousands of raggedy orphan children who infested the filthy streets of London.

The pennies would not be spent however.

They were for a rainy day; to be added to the little cache that he had already stashed away in a hidey –hole, dreaming that one day he and Sammy might have enough money to leave London and all its misery.

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He had heard of the ships that went to America, had even seen one when he and Sammy had daringly wandered farther from their habitual haunts, down to the harbour.

Perhaps when they had put past enough money, he and Sam could board one of those tall ships and make a new life for themselves there.

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He was so caught up in his day-dreaming that he didn't notice the band of older youths who had crept up on him ,and without warning he found himself thrown to the ground as they plied him with kicks and punches.

He defended himself as best he could, but five against one weren't odds that a twelve-year old could beat, and he soon found himself lying bloody and moaning on the dirty ground, his body a mass of pain.

He would probably have been finished off and left for dead had not the door to one of the nearby Gentlemen's clubs opened and the tall figure of one of its frequenters stepped out into the street.

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Sir Robert Singer exited the exclusive men's Circle; open only to the Peers of the realm, amongst whom he counted himself.

It was early to be going home but he was heartily bored by the progressively drunken state and senseless chatter of his acquaintances. Better alone than in the company of these imbeciles, he grumbled to himself as he made his way down the steps.

His attention was held by a bunch of scruffy youths beating down on something lying on the sidewalk

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He yelled at them, thinking that they were torturing some poor animal, for brutalised cats and dogs wereoften found on the smog-filled corners of the city streets.

Lord Robert loved dogs and hated to see them ill-treated.

The gang ran off immediately as soon as the older man opened his mouth, the small booty of food and pennies that Dean had gathered now in the hands of his assailants.

Even as his tormentors ran off, Dean couldn't summon up the strength to move; he had been careless, distracted by impossible dreams instead of listening for potential danger from the other inhabitants of this shadowy world.

He heard the footsteps of the man who had probably saved his life and tried to focus his dazed eyes on him.

All he could make out was a beard and a top hat.

X

Sir Robert was not new to attacks of this kind.

The prisons were full of thieves, robbers and drunks, but like most of the richer population of the sprawling city, tossing a few pence to the occasional

beggar kept their consciences at bay.

The theory was that there would always be the poor and the rich, and apart from the occasional philanthropist, the richer classes didn't bother all that much about the fate of the thousands of homeless children that roamed the streets.

X

However this was no dog, as Lord Robert soon ascertained, but a young lad no more than eleven or twelve.

As he bent down to examine him better, the boy turned his head towards him and fixed him with a stare from hiis two big fiery-green eyes, as if challenging him in some way.

He drew back a little in surprise.

Any child of his acquaintance would be crying out in tears after the beating this child had taken. He somehow felt drawn to the courageous boy.

X

"Come," he said" My carriage is near-by. I will take you back to my house and have your wounds attended to."

"No way," the boy answered in an emphatic whisper. "You could be worse than those who attacked me for all I know, old man!"

X

Sir Robert felt the strange necessity of making the child believe in his good intentions.

He wanted to know more about this oddly defiant slip of a boy.

X

"I only want to help you and get your wounds tended to, my boy," Robert continued. "I assure you I have no ulterior motives. You may put your trust in me."

"And just why would I do that?" the boy insisted insolently. "I know nothing of you."

"Perhaps you have heard my name; I am Lord Robert Singer, one of The Queen's most trusted advisors." he declared rather pompously.

X

"Yeah, I was just conversing with her Majesty yesterday and she was saying how nice you were," the boy answered sarcastically.

X

Lord Robert was beginning to feel out of his depths with this strange child.

"What would make you trust me enough to let me get your wounds attended to, " he asked bewildered.

"Give me your purse with all your money and I'll come with you," was the immediate answer.

X

He yanked out his wallet and deposited it in the bloody outstretched hand of the urchin, not quite understanding why he was still here with this

stubborn child.

Dean pulled himself up in to a sitting position, brushing off the hand that Singer held out, and pushing the wallet into the pocket of his tattered trousers.

X

"Let's go," he stated calmly "but I have an errand to run before I see to my wounds"

Sir Robert stretched out his hand once more, and this tine the boy latched on, showing a moment of weakness from the beating that he had taken.

X

Once ensconced in the carriage, Dean leaned back on the soft leather seat. "Tell the cabby to go to Castor Street. I have left something there which I must collect."

The driver obeyed Singer's orders but he was familiar with that the street ; it was in a nasty area of town and he wondered just what his master wanted to go there for.

X

"Tell your driver to stop at the next corner," Dean slurred, his ribs and multiple bruises becoming ever more painful. "I have to go and get something"

X

"You are in no state to walk, " The older man replied." I will send the driver to get it."

"No, Dean replied. "I have to go."

X

For the umpteenth time that night, Singer wondered why the Hell he had bothered offering his help to this hard-headed boy, but a little voice inside him was telling him that it was the right thing to do.

"Come then, if you must. I will accompany you, "he sighed.

X

They man and boy advanced into the rubbish-filled alley and half-way in, Dean stopped.

"Hey, Sammy, it's me. You can come out now. "

X

Sir Robert didn't know what to expect, maybe a dog, but the sweet-faced grimy little boy with the wide soulful eyes that emerged from behind the heap, was the last thing he expected to see.

"This is my little brother Sammy, " Dean announced in a proud voice. "Where I go, so does he," he continued in the defiant tone he had used earlied.

X

Lord Robert knew when he had met his match and he helped Dean back to the carriage, Sammy's little hand fisted onto Dean's trousers.

"Dean, are you all right?" he heard the little one ask worriedly.

"You're all covered in blood. I was afraid you weren't' coming back," he finished, his childish voice wavering at the terrible thought.

X

"Nah, Sammy. There s nothing that could keep me from coming back to you," the elder replied in a confident voice and Singer felt a watery glaze coming

to his eyes as he listened to the obvious love that linked the two children.

X

X

X

Dean admired his elegant form in the full-length mirror that covered the wall. He thought he looked especially handsome in the bottle-green frock-coat and tight dark brown pants.

The ladies were in for a treat tonight, he grinned to himself.

"You finished admiring yourself yet, Dean?" his brother bitched. "We're late already, and Bobby told us to be on time for once."

X

"Now, now, Sammy, we're always on time, it's the others who arrive early,"

Sam just rolled his eyes. His brother was incorrigible.

X

While Dean was eagerly pimping himself up for the evening, Sam had no wish whatsoever to attend another boring party with shark-like females all on

the look-out for a rich husband; and if Sir Robert's fortune was anything to go by, he and his brother would be the exact kind of rich husbands that the

girls were on the look-out for.

It didn't matter that they were not Sir Robert's own flesh and blood as he had legally adopted them years ago and his monies would fall to himself and Dean.

Since the night that Robert had taken them home with him, their lives had changed dramatically; no longer two waifs rummaging for food and shelter on

the streets but fortunate young boys, kitted out with private tutors and all manner of lessons, from horse-riding to tying a necktie.

X

Sam had found that he was a quick learner; his curious mind a sponge for all and everything around him.

He especially loved Bobby's library, full of thousands of books, and although Sam was an avid reader, there were still many volumes that he hadn't yet touched.

His brother's mind was as quick as his own, but Dean's interests were as different from his as chalk from cheese.

Recently Dean had persuaded Bobby to get one of those new- fangled horseless carriages and he spent hour upon hour with it, fascinated by its workings.

X

Sam would rather have passed his evening in the library but his brother had threatened that if Sam didn't come, then he wouldn't go either.

Although they now lived in a fashionable London Town house with any amount of bedrooms , the two of them continued to sleep in the same room, the

bond that had formed in the early years of their childhood just as iron-clad now as it was then; the need to know that the other was near at hand

impellent.

X

He saw that Dean had finished his one man admiration society and they made their way to the front door where their carriage awaited.

X

Jack, the driver, didn't have to be told where to go as Bobby had amply explained, and before long they pulled up at the premises that hosted the evening.

X

The brothers leapt down from the carriage, wondering what was going on as all was quiet, and there definitely didn't seem to be any party in course.

They looked at each other mystified.

X

"Jack, are you sure this is the right place?" Sam asked their driver, his voice doubtful.

"Yes, young master; Lord Robert said to bring you to this address."

"Come on, Sam," Dean pulled at his brother. "Bobby never makes a mistake. If he gave Jack this address then this is where he'll be."

He strode on ahead, yanking his recalcitrant younger brother with him

X

They found two man-servants at the salon's double doors.

"Lord Robert awaits you within, " they informed, as they pushed open the doors.

The brothers were even more confounded as everything was dark; they were almost blinded when the illumination was suddenly switched on and the more than hundred guests all shouted "Surprise" and clapped their hands in a welcoming crescendo.

X

"What the Hell!" Dean cursed as his eyes adjusted to the light.

"It's a surprise party Dean," Sam informed him calmly.

"You don't say Sammy!" Dean snarked.

X

They saw Bobby coming towards them, a glass of champagne in each hand:

"What's all this, Bobby?" Dean asked.

X

"It's ten years to the day that I found you two boys on that street, and I wanted to celebrate the wonderful years I've had since you two little rascals

brought joy and laughter to the life of a dry old man.

You've both made me so proud. Here's to my boys, Sam and Dean Winchester-Singer."

X

The brothers' cheeks turned as red as beetroots at the unusually passionate words from their adopted father, while all the guests all came forward to greet them, the females especially eager.

After all there were no handsomer men in London than Singer's two sons and the ladies in the room had a tailor made excuse for planting their lips on such fine boys.

X

XXX The enD XXX


	6. Chapter 6

Brothers Through Time.

X

Chapter Six

X

Time period- The Old West

X

Dean Winchester, twenty years old, handsome as an Adonis, lady-killer extraordinaire, silver-tongued liar, veteran poker player and a lightening draw

with his fancy silver-handled pistol. For the times in which he lived, he was a young man of success but his brash confident exterior hid a hole in his

heart as big and dry as the Nevada desert.

X

He was a man with a two-fold mission, one to find and one to punish, and when he found his target, it would pay in the most painful way that his

imagination could envisage and Dean Winchester was very very inventive.

X

He rode leisurely into the little township, his black stallion an extension of his own lean body.

At first glance, the back-water town was no different to countless others that he had passed through on his eternal trek around the sparsely populated

back-country of the young USA; the dirt-paved main street, the Town Hall, the Sheriffs' office, hardware store, stables, and of course the omni-present

saloon cum hotel, the establishments where Dean earned his living; relieving the men stupid enough to include him in their poker games, of their cash.

X

He headed for the Livery stables.

His horse needed a good rub-down and a bag of oats, and his own dry throat was clamouring for a soothing drink.

He assured himself that the black stallion would be well-cared for by making the stable boy's eyes bulge with his generous tip, while

simultaneously issuing a calm warning that if Impala wasn't given the best treatment available, he wouldn't be pleased.

x

Being the recipient of the cold glare from Winchester's hard green eyes, the stable boy hastily decided that no horse would be better cared for than this man's.

Dean nodded to the lad, aware that his message had been received and understood, and turned towards the saloon; he just wanted a cool beer and a

quiet corner in which to drink it.

He had been in the saddle for hours, and as much as he loved his horse, his ass had breathed a sigh of relief to be off Impala's back for a while; his

bow-legged gait testimony to the many hours he spent in the saddle.

X

The inside of the saloon was dark and shady, giving him respite from the heat of the afternoon and he sipped gratefully on the beer; it wasn't particularly cool but at least it wet his parched throat with its thirst-quenching liquid.

X

He took in his surroundings.

There were only a couple of old guys at the bar. There would be no action as far as poker was concerned until later on in the day, when the work load of the ranch-hands was over and they came in looking for whiskey and some fun.

He would finish his beer and head on down to the bath-house he had seen on his way in. Wash off some of the ever-present dust.

X

A few hours later, refreshed, fed and ready to roll, Dean made his way along the street towards the saloon. He was about to cross over when his attention was taken by a wagon that passed by, coming to a halt outside the general store.

He continued to watch as he saw a tall man and a teenage boy jump down, tie up the horses and go inside.

He shrugged.

It was an everyday occurrence; wagons stopped at stores all the time, then why were his instincts prodding him to pay any attention to this particular one?

Dean was a man who lived by trusting his hunches; they had kept him out of a heap of trouble in the past and he had no excuse not to listen to them now.

X

For some unknown reason he felt his heart beating a little faster as he approached the doorway and looked inside.

The man and boy were standing at the counter, where the store-keeper was piling up the items marked down on the list that he held in his hand.

He pushed open the door and entered, as three pairs of eyes turned curiously to see who had come in.

X

The store-keeper's eyes were more than welcoming, a new customer meant more business but the taller of the two client's grey eyes were

scrutinizing him suspiciously, while the moss-green eyes of the teen were staring at him with a mix of curiosity and fear.

Dean found that odd.

Why should the youngster be afraid of a total stranger?

The answer could only be that the kid was afraid of all strangers; that he had experienced nothing good from them, and didn't trust them one bit.

Somehow Dean felt a sudden protectiveness towards the unknown youth, a feeling that he had experienced once upon a time for a much smaller child, but that had served for nothing, as that child had been taken from him.

He modified his body language to be as unthreatening as possible, as he came forward.

x

"Be with you in a moment, Sir, after I finish with the two gentlemen here," the store owner declared, smiling at the new arrival.

"No problem, " Dean replied, plastering an answering smile on his face. "I'll just have a look round while you're filling their order."

X

He saw the fear in the kid's eyes lessen, but the curiosity remained as he continued to stare at him.

The suspicion in the older man's eyes hadn't diminished a whit however, but he turned back towards the counter and to his purchases.

x

"Don't forget the salt, Joe," the man grunted "and the whiskey".

"Samuel, I swear I don't know what the Hell you need all that salt for. You can't be putting it all in your soup."

"You're selling salt and I'm buyin' it. What I do with it is none of your darn business," the tall guy who obviously went by the name of Samuel, answered him crustily.

X

X

Dean glanced back at the kid who averted his head quickly, not wanting to be caught staring, which was exactly what he had been doing.

Dean returned the favour as he took in the unruly chestnut hair, wide puppy eyes and perky nose.

There was something about that face that was so familiar, tugging at his memories; memories of a similar face but much smaller and cuter as only that of a chubby six-year old's can be, a six-year old who had been very precious to him.

X

Dean latched weakly on to the counter as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

Could it be that his search was finally at an end?

Ten years of hardship, hunger and despair as he scoured the country-side searching for his missing little brother. Was it possible that when he had nearly given up any hope of ever finding him, he had miraculously stumbled across him here, in this no-name dick-town.

X

He composed himself as well as he could and took a few steps towards the two men; he had to know!

"Don't come any closer, stranger," the tall guy ordered, his gun pointed at Dean. "We wouldn't want any accidents to happen now, would we?"

"You got it all wrong, mister," Dean replied. "I don't want to harm you, I just want to ask a few questions. Look I'll drop my gun onto the floor."

He extracted his gun from its holster as slowly as he could, keeping it well away from his body and dropping it on the wooden boards, kicking it away with his boot.

X

"Why so interested in us boy?" Samuel asked.

Dean hesitated, he didn't know how to begin.

He had been disappointed more than once when he had thought to have traced his younger brother, and somehow he didn't want his heart to take another blow, although he was convinced that this time he had struck gold.

x

He glanced over at the kid once more.

The expression on his face was identical to that of his own little Sammy when he used to wait with bated breath for Dean to finish telling him a story; his younger self had loved stringing it out as long as possible, revelling in the expectant expression on his baby brother's face.

X

"I...I.. The kid with you. He seems familiar. Em...I feel as if I've met him before," he stuttered, feeling all of ten years old again.

X

He saw the boy's eyes widen at his words as they looked him over, his forehead scrunching up as he tried to imagine where he could have met the dark-haired stranger in front of him.

Dean had no longer any doubts.

His heart, mind, instinct and love told him that this was without a doubt his little brother. He had finally found him.

"Sammy...! he whispered, his voice breaking.

X

As if a switch had been turned on in the kid's head, his expression took on a look of wonder as he pronounced a name that he had almost forgotten, buried deep amongst the memories of another happier life that he barely remembered.

"De'n?" He said the name tentatively as if it was too important for his lips to utter.

Dean felt his lips curling up into an idiotic smile at the once familiar sound of his name spoken by his little brother's lips, after years of lonely silence.

X

He took a step forward, oblivious to the gun still pointed at him; even if he died now, he didn't care.

He had found Sammy, heard his voice once again, seen that he was whole and healthy; but the gun didn't go off and Dean continued forward, his eyes never leaving his brother's face, drinking it in as a parched man drinks cool water.

X

"Dean," his brother repeated hurling himself at him, his head finding a resting place on his shoulder, his arms thrown around his neck.

Dean's arms mirrored those of his baby brother, pulling him close, tightening around him like a vice. Sam was no longer the five-year old of his memories; as tall as him now, but his scent was still that of baby Sammy.

Time and space had lost their meaning ; there was only Dean and Sam, bound in an eternal embrace. They had been lost and now they were found.

X

XXX To be continued, maybe XXX


	7. Chapter 7

The Deer.

X

1213. England.

X

The deer grazed peacefully, chewing at the tender dew-covered grass carpeting the forest floor, unaware that her life would soon be cut short by a striking arrow. The young hunter who wielded it took aim and the deer fell to the ground with a soft thud.

X

Dean looked around warily before going forward to check out his kill. It was forbidden to poach the King's deer, a crime that carried the death-penalty.

He was a crack shot with a bow and his aim had been true, the animal had felt nothing. Dean didn't target the heart as the majority of hunters did, he always took a head shot; a part of him sorry to have to kill such a tame animal but he had a responsibility to his family whose stock of food was reduced to zero.

He worked quickly, if the gamekeepers caught him, he would be hanged high on the king's gallows.

X

His heart missed a beat as he heard a rustling in the undergrowth but his fear morphed into anger as he saw the tousled head of his younger brother peeking out from the shrubbery

"Sam," he hissed. "What are you doing here? I told you to stay home. You know how dangerous this is!"

"If it's dangerous for me then it's dangerous for you too." Sam declared mulishly. "I can give you a hand Dean. Together we can carry the deer back. You know that it's too heavy for you alone."

"Go back Sam. I'll cut it up and take what I can," Dean answered angrily.

"Right." Sam scoffed. "As if that's not more dangerous; hanging around just waiting to get caught. I'm here now. We'll take it back and work on it at home. That way we'll have extra meat to share out with other families."

X

Dean shot a furious look at Sam.

His brother was a stubborn little shit who never listened, following him about into the most dangerous of situations, but now that he was here, they might as well do as he said.

"Come on then," Dean sighed. "But when we're safely back home, I'm gonna string you up for coming after me!"

Sam nodded, a smile playing around his lips; he knew that Dean wouldn't lay a finger on him, he was just worried.

The brothers were as close as any two humans could be. Their father had been caught and killed four years before while doing exactly what Dean was doing now and a few years later, their beloved mother had died too, never managing to get over the death of John, her husband.

The boys had been left on their own and Dean had taken his job of looking out for his little brother as a holy crusade, protecting him more fiercely than a tiger its cub.

X

The brothers heaved the animal onto their shoulders and started out towards home.

Sam was seventeen, four years younger than Dean but recently he had gone through a growth spurt and was now the same height as his big brother and although his limbs were skinny and gangly he had a wiry strength that belied them.

Even together however, the journey back was an obstacle course as trying to make their way through the trees, side by side with the deer draped over their shoulders, wasn't easy.

They were in sight of the one-roomed cottage they called home when a rough voice rang out. "Poachers. Over here men!"

X

"Dean, gamekeepers!" Sam's voice took on a note of panic. "What are we going to do?"

Dean cursed; they had nearly made it home scot-free.

He started to shrug the animal off his shoulder. "Leave the deer; Sammy. We've got to get out of here, for if they catch us, there's no way we won't be hanging from our necks."

Sam loosened his hold and the deer thudded to the ground as the noise of running feet came ever closer.

X

"Come on," Dean whispered, his hand grasping Sam's forearm. "We can't go home, that's the first place they'll look. We'll have to hide in the forest."

"Dean…What..?"

"Not now, Sam! Save your breath for running, This isn't the time for talking!"

X

He yanked Sam along behind him and only let go when they found themselves beyond the clearing where their cottage stood, delving into the obscurity of the forest on the far side.

They made their way forward as fast as they could.

Dean and Sam were familiar with the vast woods. They had grown up in the clearing and their father had passed on all the experience of his woodland life, but a hidden tree-root was always a danger to a running man and in fact Sam tripped over one and went down with painful yelp, a hand going to his left ankle.

X

"Dean, Stop. I think I've sprained my ankle." Sam panted as he lay rocking on the ground.

Dean threw himself down beside him, pushing Sam's hand away and running inquiring fingers over his brother's leg.

"Sam, we can't stop now. They're still on our tail," Dean replied desperately, a terrible vision of Sam hanging by his neck forming in his mind.

Sam looked up at him. "I'm not going to be able to outrun them, Dean, not like this. You go on and save yourself, brother."

X

Sam's eyes took on the expression of a wide-eyed hound-dog, an expression that usually got his big brother to capitulate to his wishes but this time Dean wasn't going to dance to Sam's tune. "You're frigging joking, Sam. There's no way I'm going to leave you here."

Sam huffed. "Then we're both going to die."

"We're not going to die, Sam," Dean retorted. "I've got a plan." And he proceeded to share with his sibling.

"But Dean…." Sam objected.

"Quiet Sam! There's no other way."

X

A few minutes later three gamekeepers almost fell over Sam who was propped up with his back against a tree trunk, a hand clutched around his ankle.

"Well, well, poacher," the leader smirked. "You'll soon find out what happens to peasants like you that dare to plunder His Highness' deer. A pity though that a young handsome lad like yourself has to end his days on the gallows."

"Yes," another joined in leering evilly. "Maybe we can have some fun with him before we drag him back to the royal prisons."

X

That was the last thought to flash though the man's mind as an arrow took him in the forehead, swiftly followed at lightening speed by another two streaking to their targets.

Dean quickly shimmied down the tree that he had been perched in and went to check that the men were dead.

X

He turned towards Sam who was gazing up at him with a mix of compassion and relief in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Dean. You've never had to hurt anyone before," he said softly.

"Don't be Sam. They were going to drag you off to prison. I did what I had to protect you."

"I thought you were only going to aim at their legs, why _did_ you kill them, Dean?" Sam asked.

X

Dean pulled Sam up and secured his arm across his shoulder.

"They threatened you, Sammy. They were going to hurt you, put their hands on you. They deserved to die." Dean declared his voice hard. "Anyone who lays a hand on you has to answer to me."

"It works both ways, Dean," Sam declared softly, making sure Dean understood.

Dean had killed to protect him. Sam would do no less.

X

"What will we do now?

"We'll go back home." Dean replied. "If these three were the only ones to see us then the danger is over. We'll go back and retrieve the deer and pretend that nothing has happened. If not we'll take to the forest."

The brothers made their way forward together, one helping the other. Whatever was waiting for them, good or bad, they would face it together.

X

XXXX The enD XXX


End file.
